Memoirs of a Diva: Shane's Shots
by MizHyde
Summary: I've gotten a few requests for Shane's POV in the Memoirs of a Diva series, so here is going to be a series of one-shots from his POV. Suggestions regarding what people want to read from his POV are open, so feel free to leave them in your reviews.
1. July 24, 2000

_July 24, 2000_

* * *

Working for Vince McMahon – my father – is a pretty thankless job, if I'm going to be honest.

Over the years, my father has made it clear that he didn't want us getting involved with the business, that it could chew people up and spit them out, that we were too good to end up in the same situation as other people have. He spent years trying to dissuade Stephanie and I from being in the family business while using us for labor. But he always made it clear that he wanted us to go to college and make something of ourselves...I don't want to say in a respectable business, but definitely away from him and the business. His attempts were futile since we had become so firmly entrenched in the business from such a young age. He had Stephanie answering the phones when she was eight.

My father is a perfectionist, and because Stephanie and I are his children, he's a lot harder on us than he is on the talent or the crew. But Stephanie is still Daddy's Little Girl, his princess, the apple of his eye and all of those cliches. Me? I'm the son, the one the business is supposed to go to when he buys the farm, so I'm put through the ringer on a constant basis. He's the hardest on me out of everyone behind the scenes. He watches over me like a hawk, barking orders at me to do everything from getting coffee for the staff to competing, or just outright shouting at me when he feels like I'm not doing things to his impossibly high standards. I won't lie, I love my father – on some days because I have to, it says so in the Bible – but he is not an easy man to deal with.

He always likes to question me, ask me why I do things, why I hang around, or just why I breathe in his general vicinity. On the day we signed Rinoa Fielder, I was surprised that my father didn't ask any questions; on the contrary, he acted like my presence had been expected. While we waited for Jim Ross and the others to arrive, the two of us sat out at the pool together and talked about _SummerSlam_. Dad told me I had a match with Steve Blackman, and that he was thinking about adding Triple H into the title match. I could tell he was unhappy about it.

Stephanie never was a rebel growing up. She was the good girl, the one who always followed curfew and did everything Mom and Dad expected of her. I was the fuck-up, the troublemaker. But Stephanie surprised all of us by committing the cardinal sin in my father's eyes – she got involved with one of the boys. My dad knows that he has a good, reliable hand in Triple H, but he's furious with him for getting involved with Stephanie. I'm upset because they never told me that they were together. I found out with the rest of the world when Hunter announced he had married her in Las Vegas at a drive-through chapel, of all places. He'll never admit it, but the entire situation was my father's fault. He pushed them together, and now he's angry that something actually happened. I like Hunter; he makes my sister happy. My father hasn't quite gotten over it yet, though.

I stayed out at the pool for a bit longer when Jim arrived. I looked out at the trees and struggled with the thoughts that were running around in circles inside my head. Ever since Chris showed me the tape, I haven't been able to get it out of my brain. I want to know everything about her. Part of me thinks I've built up this impossible image in my brain, that there is no way she'll be as great as I've made her out to be. With things that have happened, it's a bit scary to have feelings like this again. It hit me so fast after I saw the tryout tape that I still don't think I've processed all of it. I've been needling Chris for little bits of information but trying not to make it super obvious. I'm not sure if he can see through it, but I've been doing it under the guise of "asking for Brisco" or "asking for JR". If Chris is suspicious, he hasn't called me out on it, but I've been waiting for it.

I walked back into the house to hear Johnny and Hayes having a disagreement over the direction of the seemingly never-ending Kat and Terri feud. I only half-listened but tuned out entirely when Hayes pitched a "Stink Face" match for _SummerSlam_. Dad turned to me, but thankfully the doorbell rang, and I knew Rinoa was going to be on the other side of it.

"I'll get that," I offered quickly. "You guys hash out your shit."

Nobody objected, but I was down the hallway fast. It took a lot of my willpower to keep from running and skipping to the door. The last thing I wanted to do was scare the poor woman on a day where she's already probably a bundle of nerves. Chris has mentioned that this is all she's ever wanted, that the WWF has been a huge part of her life ever since she was a little girl. Now, she's here to sign her contract, and I'm sure she's wondering what she's about to walk into. I've heard a lot of horror stories from the boys about WCW and its ineptitude, and I can only imagine how it's been for a woman on the roster. Chris has mentioned she was swept away by all kinds of promises, and that she's probably going to be a little skeptical of whatever we tell her until it actually happens.

I saw her through the window beside the door, her body turned like she was looking out at the driveway. Right away I could tell that she was dressed for a business meeting, and not like she had come right from the modeling agency where Johnny has found some of the girls. I stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath to steady myself, and to remind myself not to make myself, my father, or the company look stupid in front of her. Then I flung the door wide open and greeted her with a smile, and it was as if the world froze when she turned to me.

The first thing I noticed was her eyes. They were a deep, dark green, but they were vibrant in the sunlight. There was something in her eyes, an innocence or a vulnerability that could probably bring the toughest man to his knees. It threw me for a loop. I took in her face, the shape, the fullness of her lips and the length of her eyelashes, memorizing every detail. Her dark brown hair was styled in soft waves around her face in a way that flattered her. I stared at her – probably for a bit longer than I should have – and I was greeted with the thought that the videos and pictures I've seen didn't do her a lick of justice. She was far prettier in person. Most of the girls we get are the glamorous type, but there was a down-to-Earth aura to Rinoa that I found myself drawn to right away.

"Hello, Rinoa. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," I blurted, probably a lot louder than I should have. I extended my hand for her to shake, and she took it. I felt my nerves jolt when she touched me, and I wondered how her handshake could be so firm when her hands were so soft. "I'm Shane McMahon..."

"I know who you are," she told me, and I honest to God felt my heart skip a beat. "I've seen your work. You're insane." I couldn't help but laugh. I wanted to point out that it was the pot calling the kettle black, that the tape showed me some of the crazy stunts she pulled in Germany, Japan, and South Korea, but I didn't want to make her any more nervous than she already was. But I knew she had a crazy streak in her, too.

"It appears my reputation precedes me," I told her with a grin. I noticed that she was blushing; her cheeks were quite pink. I moved to the side. "Come on in – everyone's in the dining room."

She crossed the threshold, and I shut the door behind her. I struggled to keep a straight face when she took off her heels and shrank six inches in front of me. "How was your flight?" I asked.

"Good. Smooth sailing all the way from Sacramento." I made a mental note that she lived in Sacramento, California, a city I've been in a thousand times over the course of my life. I wondered why she chose there, but I didn't want to start bombarding her with questions, so I filed it away to ask her later when I got to know her a little better. I could tell she was extremely nervous as we walked into the dining room, and I knew it was because she had no idea what to expect out of my father. But she was doing an amazing job of hiding that fear.

"Rinoa!" My father boomed from the chair. Rinoa almost jumped out of her skin, but she managed to compose herself before my father caught wind of her nerves. He stood and approached to greet her. I took a step back. When the introductions were finished, and we took our seats – I sat across from her – she was offered a brownie, which she refused. I wondered why. Nobody seemed to question it, either. I think we all assumed it was nerves, but I'm surprised Dad didn't push it.

I only half listened as they talked about the details of her contract. The negotiations and terms and conditions of a talent's contract always bore me to tears. From time to time, I caught her staring at me, and I could see the fear in her eyes. Every time we locked gazes, I offered her a comforting smile that always seemed to put her at ease. I was glad that I could help. I listened to her talk about her contract situation with WCW, and I could see that she was anxious about that situation, even if she didn't say such a thing explicitly. After, we watched her sign her WWF contract, and just like that, she was working for my family. Just like that, the two of us would be seeing each other every week for the foreseeable future. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited about it. Ever since I watched the tape Chris gave JR, I've been thinking of ways I could be around her on the roster that wouldn't freak her out or make me look like a total stalker.

Rinoa surprised all of us – and disappointed me – when she got up to leave almost right away. She was all-business, and I had to respect that, but I'd hoped she would stay a while and we would get a chance to know her. _I_ would get a chance to know her.

"Welcome to the WWF, Rinoa," my father said to her. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Thank you."

I stood so quickly that I was surprised I didn't fall over my chair. "I'll walk you out," I offered, flashing her another smile. She nodded and rounded the table. Out of pure gentlemanly instinct, I ghosted my hand over her spine, leading her towards the front door. Having her stand so close made me feel like I was in high school all over again, and I was surprised that the feeling wasn't entirely unwelcome.

"Welcome to the family," I told her quietly when I was sure the two of us were out of earshot of everyone else.

"Thank you, Mr. McMahon." I jolted.

"Please. Mr. McMahon is my father. Call me Shane."

"All right...Shane." I stood across from her while she slid back into her high heels. I thought about my next words to her very carefully. She had signed her contract, and I felt like I should warn her about things, but I didn't want to scare her right out of the gate. "A small piece of advice, Rinoa: this place can be a bit hard to navigate, and with the whole war with WCW going on, you might have a bit of heat with people backstage. If anyone gives you any trouble, let me know, okay?"

The way she looked at me made me feel awful. There was suspicion in her eyes, unmistakable suspicion. I'm sure Chris gave her a rundown of what happens when a WCW talent jumps ship to the WWF; he had his own set of difficulties when he came over here. For a moment, I thought she was going to hand me my head on a silver platter, but instead, the suspicion disappeared and she smiled. "Thank you."

With a sigh of relief, I opened the door and she stepped out onto the front steps. I looked behind me, and when I saw there was no one around, I followed her out, shutting the door behind us. "Rinoa, another thing before you go..."

She turned to me while I was reaching into my shirt to give her the Funking Dojo Conservatory business card I picked up from Kurt. I handed it to her. "It's not really a secret, but some of the talent that come over here from other places tend to struggle with our style. Chris did, as I'm sure you're aware." She nodded. "Dad's starting you after _SummerSlam_ , so I grabbed this for you. You've got a few weeks before you start, so maybe head down there and get used to the way we do things before you come up. Dory will tell my dad you were there tuning up, so there will be some brownie points in it for you."

She looked down at the card and laughed. What a beautiful sound it was. "Oh, wow. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I meant what I said – welcome to the family."

"Thank you. This is really nice." She slid the card into the pocket of her navy blazer. "I guess I'll be seeing you around," she told me, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. I nodded.

"I guess so. Have a great rest of your day, Rinoa." We went to separate, but I stopped. "Hey...in case my father asks, how come you didn't go for the brownie?"

"I'm allergic to walnuts and almonds. I guess Chris forgot to pass that along. Just walnuts and almonds, though. Peanuts and cashews are fine." I nodded, making another mental note. "Thank you again for the card."

"No problem. I hope it helps."

"I'm sure it will. Have a nice day, Shane. I'll see you around."

It killed me having to go back into the house, but I didn't want to be the weirdo just staring at her as she walked down the driveway. With a sigh, I turned and walked back into the house, back to the older men arguing about Stink Face matches with women who were probably better suited to being managers than wrestlers. It wasn't long until everyone gave me a headache, so I used it as an excuse to get back in my car and head back to New York, back to my house. I was surprised Dad wasn't more suspicious, but I was glad I got to be present when she signed her contract.

I thought about her the entire drive back. We were finally going to be working together, and while I know my father would lose his mind if I were to ever pursue anything with her, everything inside of me wants to know more about her, wants to know what would make a girl like her want to pursue a life like this, where she's away from her family and her friends over three hundred days out of the year. I found myself wondering how she was spending her day, if she was on the phone with Chris, telling him all about signing her contract. I knew if I got a phone call from Chris tonight that I made an idiot out of myself with her. I hope that isn't the case.


	2. September 4, 2000

_September 4, 2000_

* * *

"Did you see the new girl last week? She's smoking hot."

I looked up from my computer screen, where my eyes have been glued for the last hour and a half. Kurt Angle was standing on the other side of my desk, leaned over my desk with his arms spread like he was ready to be searched. He was still in his red, white, and blue ring gear. I couldn't stop myself from making an irritated face at his presence. Kurt Angle is a strange duck, and that often gets overlooked back here because of his Olympic pedigree and gold medal credentials. Dad signed him to the company last summer, but he officially made his WWF TV debut last November at _Survivor Series_. Since then, he's quickly found his place as one of my father's favorite talents. It's not hard to see why; everyone who meets him in the ring can hardly believe he's been professional for under two years. I've gotten to know him because of his friendship with my father and my sister Stephanie, but there's something about him I just don't trust. Hunter doesn't trust him either, which puts me at ease. At least I'm not insane.

"I met her when she stopped by Vince's to sign her contract," I told him coolly, returning my gaze to the computer. It's a strange thing back here, but my father insists that Stephanie and I call him Vince at work. We can refer to him as our father or Dad onscreen, but behind the scenes, he's strictly Vince.

Since she debuted, aside from a few small things here and there, I haven't had a chance to talk with Rinoa much. I've been trying to find every excuse I can to run into her during the course of the night, but I haven't been able to talk to her for more than a few seconds at a time. Earlier in the night, I had to break up a fight with her and Stephanie that left both of us battered when Stephanie started slapping at the two of us.

"What's she like? I haven't had a chance to talk with her. I should find a reason. A girl like that..." Kurt trailed off, and I was thankful for that. I didn't want him to finish the thought. I've barely spoken to her since her contract signing, I don't have her contact information, and she's considered off-limits because she's a talent, and yet here I am red-hot with jealousy at the idea of her with someone like Kurt. I wouldn't say it to his face, but the thought of that makes my skin crawl in the worst possible way.

I looked at the article in front of me on the computer, at the layout with a bunch of photographs and the other window full of text. I've been chugging coffee like it's water all night, and about half an hour ago I passed the point of having a migraine, but I'm stuck here until everything is done. My father wants this article about Rinoa's debut and her alliance with Chris Jericho up by midnight tonight on the site, and the clock is ticking quickly. I can't seem to settle on a great picture or get the article edited in such a way that I would be happy with. Normally I work well under pressure – I'm convinced it's a special genetic trait handed down through the generations in this family – but tonight the words don't want to flow and I can't make up my mind. Add to it the fact that I'm meeting Rinoa after the show, and I feel the time crunch more than I humanly should.

"I heard you got to put your hands on her tonight..." Kurt trailed off.

"Is there a reason you're here needling me, Kurt?" I asked, unable to keep my irritation with him in check. Kurt straightened his posture and took a step back, both hands up at chest level.

"Take it easy, bro. I'm just asking about her because you've been seen with her more than anyone here."

"I don't know anything about her, other than she was in WCW and she's friends with the Radicalz."

"You think she's seeing anyone?" he asked.

"I don't know. Probably." My tone was strained. It never crossed my mind that Rinoa could have a boyfriend waiting for her at home, but the thought of it depressed me. I wondered what kind of type of man she would go for, or if she even dated within the business. I could definitely see her with a clean-cut, do-gooder type like Kurt, but the thought of the two of them being anything remotely close to an item made me feel queasy.

"You're right. A girl like that? No way she's ever on the market for long."

"Can we do this some other time, Kurt? I'm kind of on a tight deadline tonight."

"Well, jeez Louise, Shane. You should have just said so. I'll see you around tonight. If I get any updates, I'll pass them your way." I shrugged and Kurt left. I let out a loud sigh of irritation and tried to focus on my work. Every part of me wanted to get out of my chair and go get another cup of coffee, but with the constant moving up and down, all I was doing was wasting time. I looked at the article and the picture files and tried not to scream at the frustration I felt. It looked like a mess; like I was no closer to the finish line than I was two hours ago.

"Hey, Shane. You okay? You look tense."

"I am tense." I looked up, the rant dying on my lips at the sight of Trish Stratus in front of me. She was still dressed in her manager's uniform of a mini skirt and a halter top that pushed everything up high. Trish joined us in April, a transplant from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. My father is smitten with her, and I'm pretty sure that she knows it. It's kind of an open secret that my father has a thing for blondes. "Sorry...I've got a big deadline coming up, and..."

"And you have to meet Rinoa after the show," Trish finished. I shot her a look, my suspicion dying when I remembered the way they had been interacting. Rinoa and Trish seemed to be the best of friends, the two of them clicking almost instantly. She grabbed a chair and sat down beside me. "So what's the problem?"

"The article is a mess, and I can't even pick a couple pictures to use of her in here."

"Do you have any top contenders?" she asked, leaning forward, resting her head on her hand.

"Well..." I pulled up a picture from her debut. "I like this one because the light really flatters the face and the shine on her gear, but I like this one..." I pulled up the other picture. "Because it brings out the shine in her eyes."

I could feel Trish's eyes burning into me, but I chose to ignore it. "Give a guy a hand? You've probably got a better eye for this than I do."

"I'd go with this one because you are right – the light really flatters her. But I didn't know you were into photography," she teased. I shrugged.

"When you stare at photos all day, you start noticing things." I knew there was more that she wanted to say, but I was thankful I didn't have to hear it.

"I'd also go with this one of her and Chris together after their match. "This one in particular. That is a genuine smile. That's the kind you can't fake. She's so happy to be working with Chris again."

"She's mentioned that a few times," I told Trish with a laugh. "I guess they go back a long way."

"They do. She said he's the reason she got signed."

"He is," I confirmed. "I mean, I think she would have made her way here eventually, but Chris was pretty aggressive about getting her here as soon as possible." We fell quiet as I set up two of the three pictures I needed on the article. "You've probably seen her since the segment. How is her face doing?"

"Still pretty red. Your sister hit her pretty hard. But she's tough." I nodded. There was some wild stuff on her tryout tape, video of her doing things that make me wonder how she's not scarred and mutilated. "For the last picture, I'd say go with this one..." She pulled up a promotional picture Rinoa had taken on her first night, a picture to be used for posters and promotional stills. It was a beautiful picture; the way the light bounced off her eyes made the irises look ringed. "You can tell she's so happy to be here. You can't fake a smile like that."

"There really is something about her smile that's infectious," I agreed. Trish nodded.

"Anyway. I'm going to go. Now that half the work is done, just focus on that article."

"Did she say anything about meeting up tonight?"

"No. She's just been icing her face and watching the show."

"Thanks, Trish. I appreciate the help."

"Don't mention it." She looked at me, and I locked eyes with her. For a moment I thought she wanted to say something, but instead, she offered me a quick wave and left. I went back to the article, desperate to finish before the clock struck midnight. I didn't want anything to stop me from going out with Rinoa at the end of the night. At a quarter to midnight, I finally accepted it for what it was and set it up to post at midnight. I hoped that Rinoa was going to be happy with the article and the pictures that were chosen. Instead of driving myself crazy with second thoughts, however, I slid my jacket on and rushed to the parking lot to meet Rinoa. After everything with Stephanie tonight, I was sure she didn't want to go out and have a jolly time with them. I was hoping that maybe I could talk her into going with me one on one so I could get to know her better. I'm still not sure what it is about her that I've been so drawn to since I saw her tryout tape, but all I want to do is know her. After that, I don't know how or where things are going to go.

I found Rinoa loading her bags into her car. "Hey, Noa. Are you ready for some cheesecake tonight? Don't think I forgot." I wanted to tell her that I've been looking forward to it all night, but I could only imagine how she would react. She shut the trunk of her car and turned to me, her green eyes narrowing at the sight of my face. She reached out and ran her fingers over the bruising on my face. I'll never forget how it felt, like a thunderbolt mixed with some residual pain. When I winced, she pulled back.

"I'm sorry. Wow, she really got you good, didn't she?"

"Perk of being in the family. You have any siblings?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Nope. I'm an only child. It looks like I didn't miss out on a lot of the fun and excitement."

"You're lucky. I love Steph, but on nights like this..." I trailed off before I let my thoughts die with a loud sigh. I smiled. "I'm driving the red Mustang over there. It might be the best idea for you to follow me in your car." She nodded, and we separated to our vehicles. Once again, I found myself trying not to be giddy like a teenager in her presence. It astounds me that she came in with no ego, no demands, and only with nothing but compassion for the people around her. I touched the swelling by my eye; it was like I could still feel her fingers.

Inside the car, I turned the key in the ignition and was instantly met with the loud refrain of "I Wish". I looked over at Rinoa, who was grinning in the other car, and I suddenly didn't feel so embarrassed about my music choice. She gave me enough space to drive past first, and she followed behind me. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pissed about Stephanie putting her hands on me, but at the end of the night it got me some alone time with Rinoa, so it's not all bad.


	3. September 11, 2000

_September 11, 2000_

* * *

"So...what's going on with you and the new girl? The one from WCW?"

I looked in the rear-view mirror. D-Von and Spike Dudley were crashed out in the backseat, while Tommy was staring out the window, drinking a bottle of Coke. We caught eyes in the mirror and I averted my stare, looking quickly over at Bubba Ray Dudley in the passenger's seat. "Nothing. Not a damn thing," I told him. "Why? What have you heard?"

"Honestly? Word's going around that you two are hooking up."

"Not happening." It took me a moment to realize I was gripping the steering wheel a little tighter like it was some kind of defense mechanism. I loosened my grip. "Absolutely not. You think my father blew up at the idea of Stephanie dating one of the boys? It would be infinitely worse for me getting involved with one of the girls. He wouldn't stand for it."

"You can't blame people for thinking it," Bubba pushed. "You've been hanging around her a lot lately."

"What are you getting at?" I asked him.

"He's calling you a liar," Tommy interjected from the backseat.

"You guys can believe what you want, but I'm not involved with anyone right now. Period. End of story."

"You thought about getting back out there, man? I mean..."

"I don't know. It's complicated."

"I haven't met the new girl yet..." Tommy started.

"She's got a name, guys. It's Rinoa. It shouldn't be a hard one to forget," I chided, rolling my eyes.

"Sorry. Jeez. No need to be so defensive. I just wanted to know what she's like. It's not a secret you two have been hanging out a lot together," Tommy said with a shrug, taking a big swig of his Coke. I shot him a glance in the rear-view mirror and sighed.

"She's great. I like hanging with her. Doing the things she's done, seeing the things she's seen, it's a downright miracle that she still looks at everything on the bright side. I envy it." I shrugged. "I've hung out with her a few times now, but it's not like I really know her. I'm getting to know her."

"Ah..."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I asked. Bubba sounded awfully accusatory.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Tommy, since you're the Bubba Whisperer back there, what's he getting at?"

"He thinks you're into her. In his defense, I think you are, too."

"This is really what this trip is going to be?" I asked.

"Yeah, because you're not being honest with us," Bubba told me.

"How am I being dishonest?" I asked wearily.

"Look, it's pretty clear you are into her. You think we haven't noticed you're always around her?"

"It's business."

"Not that much, it's not. You know what I think?"

"I thought I smelled the smoke."

"Get fucked, McMahon." I snorted. "I think you look for any excuse to be around her."

"Now I know you took a hard shot to the head tonight."

"What the fuck are you even lying for? You're among friends here," Tommy pointed out. "You think Vince is going to ask us about anything?" I knew he was right. Dad brought them in because they were big ECW names, but ECW is a hardcore organization that my father looks down his nose at. I personally enjoy ECW and the unconventional guys and girls down there. While I haven't clicked with Tazz, the Dudleys, Tommy and I quickly became friends and riding buddies. I've had some good times with these guys, and they've seen me through some pretty awful times as well, and for that, I'm grateful.

"Tommy's right. And you're protesting way too fucking much, bro."

"You guys fucking suck."

"Just spit it the fuck out, Shane! Jesus Christ." Bubba threw up his hand, exasperated. "You wanna bang the new girl. It's not a crime."

"Please don't talk like that about her, okay? She's better than that."

"See? There it is!"

"She's a professional. Just like you guys," I pointed out.

"Why is it so hard for you to admit that you're into her?" Bubba demanded. I wondered if Stephanie had to go through this when she started dating Hunter. If she did, I have no idea how she handled it. Maybe that's why she's got such an attitude these days; everyone drove her insane.

"You know why," Tommy told him. The car fell silent. I sucked in a breath and gripped the wheel a bit tighter.

"Shit. Right. I'm sorry, man," Bubba said. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

"It's fine," I said with a sigh. "It's just me."

"Rinoa looks nothing like her." It was a flat statement. I'm not sure what Bubba was getting at.

"I know."

"Is that why it's complicated?" Tommy asked.

"It's more than that. It's always more than that."

"She's one of the girls, and you're having trouble moving on. It doesn't sound that complicated," Bubba said.

"What is it like living with your head so far up your ass?" I asked. Tommy roared with laughter, waking up Spike and D-Von. I groaned. Now, instead of two sides, I was going to be hearing it from four.

"What's all the noise?" Spike grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Shane's got a hard-on for the new girl," Bubba told him.

"You're so lucky I'm technically your boss because I'd crack you one right now if I wasn't," I told him.

"It's not my fault you're lying," Bubba countered.

"So what's the problem?"

"There is no problem because there is nothing going on," I insisted, shooting a glare at Bubba.

"Are you thinking about getting back out there?" Spike asked. "I mean, it has been a long time."

"I don't know," I answered with a sigh. "Some days I think I should, and that I can. Other days, it's not a thought I like to have. It's a vicious cycle."

"At some point, I think it would be a good idea. I don't think she would want to see..."

"Can we not do this? Please?"

"Just saying...it's okay to get back to the Land of the Living, man. Nobody would blame you," Spike said. "And I mean, if you like her...and she likes you...You of all people know how short and how fragile life can be." I nodded, trying to keep myself composed. This was a dark conversation on a ride that I hoped would be fun and full of energy since the guys are making me drive the whole three hours. My way of paying dues, they said. I brushed it off because it's their excuse for making me do everything. "And, I mean, you could do worse. She's gorgeous."

"Come on, you guys. You're killing me here."

"All you have to do is admit it. You're making it harder on yourself by lying," Bubba informed me.

"Why are you guys breaking my balls so much tonight?" I lamented. "Keep it up, and I'm going to leave you fuckers on the side of the road." It was an empty threat, we all knew it. Bubba snorted.

"If I find out the two of you are a thing..."

"We are not a thing, Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed. "I am not involved with _anybody_. It is just me, myself, and work. That's it. If my personal life were a movie, it would be _All Quiet on the Western Front_." Spike, Tommy, and Bubba roared with laughter. I shook my head and turned up the radio. There was a lot of argument over the music on the first hour of the ride, and I was outvoted by a group of metal-heads, so it's been a steady stream of Pantera, AC/DC, Pearl Jam, White Zombie, and Alice in Chains. Tommy passes discs from his wallet to Bubba, who seems to have taken over the stereo.

"Have you met the new girl, Spike?" Bubba asked.

"Yeah. I met her way back in the day on the circuit. She was a complete sweetheart. Almost too good for this business," he cracked. "I'll always remember her boyfriend. He really was a piece of work. It was pretty clear he didn't like what she was doing with her life, and it was pretty clear that she was conflicted about it. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to her, but the scene he made...it was something." I was surprised at the bolt of anger I felt hearing that, but nobody seemed to notice. "If she's made it here, though, she obviously left that guy in the dust."

We fell silent. Spike readjusted so that he could try and go back to sleep, having said his piece. Tommy was too jacked up on caffeine to sleep. He was restless; I could tell by the way his leg was bouncing against my seat. Bubba looked out the window. It was an awkward silence now, with both of us thinking that we hadn't given or received an inch from the other.

I couldn't help but think about Rinoa. Was she hearing the same thing from her group of friends? Was everyone picking up on something? I knew there was no way she would ever talk to me about this, and I don't think I'll ever be comfortable enough to approach her about this. There's still so much I need to work through.

"I smell smoke, McMahon."

"Thinking about _Unforgiven_."

"You're thinking about the women's title match," Bubba stated. I snorted.

"I'm thinking about the eight-man tag team you guys have with the APA. Are you guys ready?" I asked.

"Born ready." Right To Censor have been running roughshod over the company for a while now, trying to "cleanse" the company of all the indecency they feel runs rampant. I haven't crossed paths with them very much, but they tend to play nice to my face because of my last name. All of the guys I talk to have had some kind of problem with them. They are all buttoned up, in white shirts done up to the collar and black pants. They have no music; just a warning buzzer that grates on my nerves five seconds after it starts. In their group is Ivory, one of the more talented women on the roster. I know that Rinoa is going to be taking the title off Stephanie at _Unforgiven_ , and I know that means Ivory is waiting in the wings for her. If there's anyone that can handle her, I have no doubt it's Rinoa.

"They won't know what hits them. If we don't, Bradshaw and Ron are gonna clear cut them," D-Von said with a laugh. I nodded. Right To Censor is going to be facing a team of hard-hitters at _Unforgiven._ Meanwhile, the strange...I don't want to call it a love triangle, because there's no way Stephanie is attracted to Kurt, but whatever is going on between them is probably going to come to a head at _Unforgiven._ The other night, Kurt had the audacity to carry Stephanie away from Hunter after she got injured outside the ring, and he kissed her. Hunter is irate, and Stephanie is a bit disgusted. She said he's a terrible kisser, and I could tell just watching the video that she wasn't lying. Kurt really thinks he has a chance with my sister, and it seems like he's lining Rinoa up as a backup plan if Stephanie doesn't work out, which I don't like one bit.


	4. September 24, 2000

_September 24, 2000_

* * *

 _Unforgiven_ was airing live from the First Union Centre in Philly, the home of last year's _WrestleMania_. I arrived at the arena super early, when there was only a small handful of fans waiting at the back of the arena. They were yelling and asking for autographs, which is something I don't usually give out. But I posed for a few pictures before I went inside to get the morning started. I had to meet with the IT team to go over how they were going to cover the night's event before I had to meet with Dad to go over how we were going to be running the show. It was a bit of a long meeting - it's always a little bit longer on pay-per-view days - but we all left the meeting in high spirits. I tasked Michelle, one of our website photographers, to get the pictures of Rinoa with her new championship. With everyone banned from ringside, the general feeling is that my sister doesn't have a shot in hell.

After I dismissed the meeting, I made my way to Gorilla, high-fiving and slapping hands and exchanging greetings with my co-workers. I spotted Chyna getting her makeup done, but she didn't acknowledge me. The two of us used to be really close friends, but there's some kind of triangle between her, my sister, and Hunter, so I've been branded guilt by association. I offered her a wave, but she either didn't notice, or she chose to ignore me. Dad's been at his wit's end with her contract negotiations. He wanted me to give it a shot, but she's not giving me an inch, either. Dad quickly realized that whatever is happening with those three, our friendship has dissolved because of it. I won't be any help for it.

In Gorilla, I found Dad talking with Pat Patterson, Gerry Brisco, Jerry Lawler, and JR. They were going over notes for the evening, and the which order the matches were going to fall on the card. Dad's a very hands-on owner, and I know the match order will change two or three times before showtime. I took my place beside Gerry and remained silent while they bickered and plotted. When it was over, Jerry, JR, and Pat walked through the curtain, where the ring, set, and commentary tables were being built. Dad turned to me. "Good morning," I greeted.

"Shane." Vince handed me a stack of paperwork and leather bound files. "I need you to take these to my office."

"Sure." I knew he could have radioed for someone to do it for him if it was so important, and I wanted to say something acerbic, but doing such a thing on show day is suicide. My dad can be a very high-strung and demanding individual in general, but it's always amplified when there's a show to go on. The scales tip a bit one Sunday a month, however, because of the different sets. I took the files from him and left in silence; after all, it gave me an excuse to get my morning coffee on the way back.

"Hey!"

I turned in the middle of the curtain that separated Gorilla from backstage. "What?"

"The guy left Rinoa's nameplate in my office," Vince informed me. "Since she's your little buddy, I figured you could grab that while you're there." Dad's tone was less-than-impressed, but I nodded and got the hell out of his sight.

My dad always has a list of demands for the things he wants in his office when we do a show. It always includes a big desk, a comfortable desk chair, a leather couch, and food trays. He only spends a few hours in the office before and after the show. During the show, Dad, Gerry, and I take our places behind a table in Gorilla and run the show from there.

His office was empty, and I was relieved to find that Stephanie hadn't taken it over with Hunter. She does that most months. I put everything down on the right corner of the desk in a neat stack because Dad would lose his mind if I left a mess in the office. The black box with Rinoa's nameplate was on his desk, right in the middle. I picked it up and opened the box, grinning when I saw her name staring back at me.

The gold plate was freshly polished. I couldn't stop staring at it. I've seen a million of these things in my day, but there's something about seeing hers that felt really special. Tonight is a night that she's been dreaming of her entire life. Her quest for this - and Chris Jericho, though I'll never give him credit to his face - are the reasons why our paths have crossed.

I didn't have a chance to get in touch with Rinoa before I had to come to the arena, so I have no idea how she's feeling today. It's at the top of my list to catch up with her sometime before the match, to pass along information about where the photo shoot is going to take place and to get a gauge on how she's feeling. Rinoa has been doing this for years; she knows the pressure that comes with being a champion and she knows that it's going to come at the expense of the boss's daughter. If I were in her shoes, I'd probably be extremely nervous.

I shut the box and put it down when there was knocking on the door. "Come on in!" I called out, turning and leaning against the desk.

The door opened and Rinoa walked into the room, dressed in this red sweater that looked incredible on her. She looked surprised to see me; meanwhile, my smile was so wide that my face burned. "Good morning, Noa. Just the woman I wanted to see. Are you ready for tonight?" I greeted. I was hoping that I sounded casual, and not super creepy. As friendly as we are, I could still blow everything. And then probably end up sued. I've seen it happen to my father a number of times.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to be, I guess," she said with a shrug. She looked around the office. "I heard you were looking for me. What did you want to see me for?"

"I have something you're going to want to see," I told her, handing the box to her. She looked at me quizzically, but she took it. I watched her eyes, those beautiful green eyes, light up when she opened the box and saw the nameplate. "I wanted to show it to you before your match. A little bit of added motivation," I added with a grin. She looked at me and shook her head.

"I don't know how much this is going to help with the nerves, but this is incredible."

"I'd be more worried if you weren't nervous," I told her. She closed the box and handed it back to me. "A lot of girls would kill to be in your spot tonight, Noa. It's not a secret that my sister hasn't endeared herself to anybody back here."

"Still not helping."

"You're going to kill it tonight, Noa. You got this." She smiled. Every time she smiles at me, it's like a shot in the chest.

"Thank you, Shane. For everything," she blurted. "I know I haven't really said it, but I appreciate everything you've done for me since I got here."

"I know you do, Noa. It's all good."

"I really hate to cut this short, but I need to go and start getting ready."

"Yeah. I've got to get this nameplate over to the prop department." I looked down at the box. "Between you, me, and the fence post, Noa - I think you're going to make an incredible Women's Champion."

She looked genuinely touched by my words. "Thank you."

"Break a leg tonight. Preferably not yours." We shared a laugh, and I watched her leave. When the door shut behind her, I leaned against the desk and took a deep breath. I couldn't help but think about how prevalent the rumors seem to be about the two of us, and I couldn't help but think about doing the last loop with Tommy and the Dudleys. They're right; I'm in all kinds of trouble here. Dating a Diva is just as forbidden as Steph dating one of the boys; my father would bring the guillotine down on her harder than he ever would with Hunter. I wouldn't wish that on her for anything.

It's not really a secret back here that I've had a bit of trouble personally. I let myself disappear from things for awhile. I know that I want to get to know Rinoa more, that I would love to see where things could go if I knew how to proceed without killing her career, but the fact that people are harassing me over this hasn't been making things any easier. There's so much to think about, and the majority of it is unwelcome thoughts. I looked down at the box in my hands and shrugged. I needed to get it to props so I could get back to Dad right away; the last thing I need is someone telling him that Rinoa and I were alone in here for a while. I wouldn't hear the end of it.

* * *

She stood less than six feet away from me, walking back and forth, in blue and purple gear that looked _incredible_. She was trying to keep herself composed, but I could tell that she was incredibly nervous. Her hands were shaking. We locked eyes for a moment, and I gave her the most reassuring smile I could muster from my spot. She smiled back and nodded, and then the music on the other side of the curtain picked up and she was gone, through the curtains and onto the stage. From there, I could only watch her from the monitor. Once she stepped through the curtains, the nerves and the fear disappeared from her face completely; from where I sat, she looked like a seasoned competitor ready for battle.

Stephanie walked into Gorilla while Rinoa was posing in the ring. The Women's Championship was over her shoulder. I could see that Stephanie was nervous, and I couldn't blame her; Rinoa's Last Breath finisher is absolutely devastating. Dad looked up at her and gave her a smile. "Good luck out there, Stephanie." She flashed him a smile, and a scowl at me - for obvious reasons - and disappeared through the curtain when Hunter's music hit the speakers. The heat my sister generates is unreal. The crowd heaped all kinds of abuse on her as she walked down to the ring. Inside the ropes, Rinoa paced back and forth like a caged animal, like she was ready to attack and maul my sister the second she got into the ring.

I was into the match, clapping whenever Rinoa got offense and shouting the occasional "That's how it's done" when Rinoa got my sister on the ropes. It wasn't a hard day's work for Rinoa to dispatch my sister and take the Women's Championship when the odds were fair. When the referee's hand went down for the three count, I pumped my fist and quickly found myself getting stared at by both my father and Gerry. I cleared my throat and straightened myself up and tried - and failed - to keep the giddiness to myself. In the ring, Rinoa cried, holding the title in both arms. She got to her feet and had her hand raised by the referee. When he dropped it, she moved to the corner where the hard camera was and got onto the second rope, holding the title high over her head. The screen was almost whited out from the flashing of cameras. It was insane.

Chris poked his head in. "She coming?"

"She is. Wait there. I'll send her your way." Chris nodded and disappeared down the steps.

When she was halfway up the ramp, I took off my headphones and dropped them on the table. I wanted to be the first person she saw when she stepped through the curtain. Selfish, I know. I have no real defense for it. It wasn't that I didn't want Chris in the area; I just knew she was going to be overwhelmed and needed a moment to breathe. It's her first Women's Championship.

She walked through the curtain struggling to compose herself. Her hair was wild and her makeup was a mess, but she still looked beautiful. I approached and hugged her tightly. "Congratulations, Champ," I told her. I'm not sure what reaction I was expecting, but her sobbing even harder was definitely not it.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she repeated, pulling away from me a little so she could wipe her eyes. "I just...I can't believe it." I let go of her so she could examine her title. It still had Stephanie's nameplate on it, but by the end of the night, it would be hers. She was at the top of the division now, the queen on her throne, and I couldn't think of anyone better to represent the division and the company. I learned from Dad that her media day had been a success, that people genuinely seemed to like her more than the women who he had chosen to be the face.

"Chris is just past the curtain. He wants to see you." I could feel Dad watching the two of us, but I ignored him. "Do you need a minute?" I asked. She nodded.

"Yeah. If Chris sees me crying, I'll never hear the end of it," she confessed with a laugh. She wiped at her eyes and smoothed her hair as best she could. "How do I look?" she asked, taking a step back.

"Like you just won the biggest match of your career, Champ." We turned as Dad approached. He extended his hand to Rinoa.

"Congratulations, Rinoa," he offered. The look he gave me was red-hot. If Rinoa noticed, she was too overwhelmed by her victory to do or say anything.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything," Rinoa blurted. Dad beamed because he can't resist when someone gives him any kind of credit or adulation. Rinoa excused herself and then she was gone. Dad took his place beside me.

"You two are awfully chummy," he pointed out.

"Don't even go there," I told him with a roll of my eyes. Steve Blackman walked into Gorilla, ready for his Hardcore Championship match. Dad and I rounded the table and took our places on either side of Gerry. I put my headset back on and Steve disappeared through the curtain. For the rest of the night, all I wanted to do was take a break. I wanted to find Rinoa and see what the Women's Champion's plans were for her night. Dad watched me like a hawk. A few times during the course of the evening, I felt his glare on me. Gerry was tense beside me, but the two of us did the best we could to focus on our jobs. If I got caught up in every little thing my father did or said to me, I wouldn't be able to live my life.


End file.
